


Don't Send Me Down the Path of Nevermore

by SunshineSanctuary



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Act first think later Crowley, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale melts down, Character Death, Crowley's totally got this, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Actually Just Assumed, Seriously these two are made of fluff, upon rereading this is incredibly sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineSanctuary/pseuds/SunshineSanctuary
Summary: Based on this tumblr prompt: https://snemon-says.tumblr.com/post/185461794836/i-know-this-has-been-done-in-various-forms-in-ficsWhat if it was Aziraphale had showed up at Crowley's flat to tell him about the Antichrist only to find holy water on the floor, a puddle of dead demon goo and Crowley missing?Well, here you go...EDIT: Thinking of adding a post Apocawasn't (Armageddodidn't?) follow up/second chapter... with a potentially (slightly) higher rating. Thoughts?





	Don't Send Me Down the Path of Nevermore

**Author's Note:**

> First fic to make it to the internet so be gentle :) 
> 
> I freaking love writing about these two. 
> 
> Unbeta'd so apologies in advance for typos

Aziraphale popped into existence at Crowley’s flat. In the hall outside of course, there was no call to be rude. 

“Crowley!” he called, rapping sharply on the door. “I’ve found him. He’s…” the door drifted open. “Crowley? Are you there?” 

He stepped into the flat cautiously, alarm ringing thinly behind his ears. He wrinkled his nose. The scent of sulfur lingered in the atmosphere, tempered by the onerous tang of decay. 

“Crowley?” he called out again, worried now. He approached the partially ajar office door. A faint haze hung in the air. Crowley’s old answering machine whirred faintly. He leaned into the office. There was water on the floor, a dark jacket and a sticky puddle. He froze, unable to process the scene before him. The flask he’d given Crowley years ago sat open on the desk. 

“Oh...” Aziraphale choked, words failing him for the first time in six millennia. He gasped as breath he didn’t technically need abandoned him. He began to crouch by the steaming jacket on the floor, changed his mind and stumbled back. He lurched upright and braced against the office wall. 

“What have you done, my dear boy?” he whispered, wrecked. “What… what have _I_ done?” his mind reeled back to Crowley’s face when Aziraphale had rejected him … again. Guilt and grief overwhelmed him and hot, wet tears began to gather. _My best friend, gone. Whatever will I do now?_

Crowley tumbled cackling back into reality, gleefully trapping Hastur and his tinny threats on the machine. He paused, sensing another presence in the room. Aziraphale! Elated, he clambered up to find the angel tearfully wobbling on his feet by the doorway. 

He took a step towards Aziraphale, alarmed. Crowley’s gaze flicked from the puddle on his floor to the weeping angel before him. 

“Aziraphale, what…?” and then, “Oh,” as he connected the dots. “Oh no. Oh Angel..” He reached out for his friend, tentatively gripping his shoulder. Aziraphale sagged at the contact, swaying again. Crowley moved immediately into his space, bringing his hands up to thumb away tears. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale breathed incredulously, hiccuping through tears. He gestured helplessly at the tartan thermos on the desk and the mess on the floor. “I … I thought…” He squeezed his eyes shut and fresh tears clung to his eyelashes. 

“I’m alright. I’m alright, I promise.” Crowley soothed, pulling the angel in gently. Aziraphale’s hands came up to grip Crowley’s arms, wrinkling in his jacket. He didn’t resist as Crowley pulled him into an embrace. Crowley rubbed the angel’s back lightly, stroking, soothing. Without thinking he leaned in and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, thinking of nothing except making it better - anything to comfort his angel. 

Aziraphale stilled and Crowley froze for a microsecond as his brain caught up with his actions. _Ah fuck it._ He thought. _In for a penny…._ He cupped Aziraphale’s dear dear face with both hands and brushed away tears with lips instead of fingers as he continued to murmur nonsensical reassurances even as his own pulse thundered in his veins. 

Aziraphale seemed to have metabolized his shock to some degree and returned Crowley’s grasp, positively clinging. After a moment, he pulled back and peered at Crowley’s face. “Are you really alright, my dear? Oh take those wretched things off.” He pulled Crowley’s sunglasses off and tossed them away. 

Crowley smiled, serpentine eyes alight. “Yeah Angel, I’m alright.”

The angel closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. He did not let go of Crowley. “I thought… and the last thing I said to you… even though...I…I wanted...” Aziraphale babbled, distressed. 

“What do you want, Angel?” Crowley’s voice wavered a little. 

Aziraphale opened his eyes. “I…” His gaze tracked down to Crowley’s mouth. Crowley waited, hardly daring to breathe. _Come on angel. My angel. Please…_ His heart was in his throat as Aziraphale dragged his eyes back up Crowley’s face.

The dam broke. Aziraphale surged forward, kissing Crowley with a thousand years of suppressed yearning. 

It was only sheer force of will that kept Crowley’s knees from buckling. That and if he collapsed on the floor he might have to let go of Aziraphale and that was never happening again. He couldn’t stop a whimper as Aziraphale’s arms wound around his neck and fingers slid into his hair. The angel sighed into Crowley’s mouth as it opened beneath his, nipping, sucking, unable to stop for the world. Why had they waited so long for this? A demon and a hedonist. Seems inevitable really. A demon gone native and an angel in love with the world.

Crowley was lost. Thousands of years of emotions he would never admit to having crashed over him, leaving him gasping. Doesn’t matter. Demons don’t need oxygen anyway. Sod it. Sod the whole damn world. He couldn’t be arsed to care about anything but the stupid, clever, ridiculous angel in his arms, stealing his breath.

The end of the world, though, needed seeing to. With a groan, Crowley tore himself away, panting a bit. Leaning their foreheads together. “What do you want to do?”

It took Aziraphale a moment to latch onto the subject change. “Erm yes, quite so.” He pulled back suddenly. “The Antichrist! I know where he is.”


End file.
